


This Time a Star

by Elle_gy



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: AU, Angst, Drama, Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_gy/pseuds/Elle_gy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SciFi AU: The arrival of a MAOH user in a peaceful Shin Makoko throws the tenuous sanity of the royal family into chaos. Further, impurities beginning to infect the ether threaten more than just national security.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Breeze in Late Summer

I. A Breeze in Late Summer

“Sir, there’s been a breech in the barrier wall.”

Gwendal sighs. Of all the things he needs, especially after a morning like this one, he certainly doesn’t need a breech in the barrier wall.

“Where?”

His assistant’s eyes glaze over behind her glasses as she begins to trace along the edges of the barrier with her consciousness. Gwendal feels a little twinge of discomfort on the back of his mind, probably due more to being aware of her psychic presence on his wall than actually being able to sense it. Sensing was really never his job (or his forte). He was really only responsible for keeping the walls up.

“District 4, Quadrant 7. The breech is sizeable,”

District 4 Quadrant 7 sounds strikingly familiar. _Too_ familiar.

“Which patrol is assigned to first responder?”

His assistant cringes and pushes her glasses further up her nose. “Unit 3 – 8, sir.”

“God fucking –” he stops because it isn’t really the assistant’s fault that _Wolfram’s_ unit is responding to the first breech in the wall in eighteen years. “Get Units 2 -1 and 2 – 4 to join them immediately.”

“Sir.” She says affirmative with a quick nod of her head. She stands and hastily makes her way out of his office.

Not two minutes later, he feels a tug on his wavelength. With a flick of his hand, he wills a screen to project in front of him and connects Conrad through. It’s been a long time since he’s seen his brother looking so apprehensive.

“Suki told me the news.” Suki? Oh, right, his assistant. “We’re leaving shortly.”

“We’ll be online for back-up if you need it.”

“Understood.” Conrad makes to disconnect, but Gwendal stops him with a raised hand.

“Conrad.”

“Yes?”

“Please make sure our younger brother doesn’t accidently blow himself up.”  
…

Despite the rampant and nasty rumors, Wolfram von Bielefeld is _not_ a lazy commander.

He imagines the vile gossip started due either to his rather mercurial temper or his bratty disposition as a child. He even suspects _(when he can be convinced enough to care)_ that some of his past scorned admirers were fueling the fires (ahem), so to speak.

Be that as it may, Wolfram von Bielefeld is far from lazy. He takes the command of his unit very seriously and the security of Shin Makoko even more so. So despite his rather weak abilities in clairvoyance, he makes it a habit to maintain a constant surveillance of the wall.

He felt the breech hard and sharp between his eyes.

He and his unit were patrolling a rural quadrant in a rather rural district. The air was sharp with the coming fall, but the hills they cruised through were still green and fresh. Not even a mile away, a small farming town was preparing for autumn harvest and the subsequent festival.

He growls when he felt the breech. “von Dunn.” He calls to a rather tall, wide-eyed brunette hanging at the back of his unit.

“Sir!” von Dunn responds as he jogs to meet his commander.

“I need you to jump us to a location on the wall.” He allows a tendril of his conscious aura meet von Dunn’s and transfers the essence of the breech location. “Can you handle the both of us?” von Dunn nods hesitantly.

“Sulleymann! Von Dunn and I are going ahead to the site of the breech. Follow immediately.” Von Dunn doesn’t watch as Sulleymann whisks his commander away. Despite his dearth in knowledge of the situation, von Bielefeld’s second-in-command was rather sharp. More importantly, he values what un-singed hair he has left. He followed on their heels.


	2. II. The Intricacies of Air

II. The Intricacies of Air

            The wall is an invisible thing, and stronger for it. The locals have built waist-high stone fences around it, , but it’s really a pulsing of energy that shields Shin Makoko’s boarders. In fact, even the rolling hills past the wall are an illusion – a nice projection, for the sake of everyone’s sanity – to conceal the non-dimensional void beyond.

            To breech a wall is quite a difficult thing. Dimension-hopping, in itself, is a strenuous task. Further, the energy needed is compounded greatly by the wall held up mainly by Gwendal’s formidable mental strength.

            Wolfram isn’t sure what to be prepared for at the breech, but his blood is already warming with the expectancy of a rough fight. But very little could have prepared him for the sight of an inter-dimensional _hole._

The tear is wide, gaping, and the air around it is frenetic with displacement. Wolfram’s eyes are drawn to it, despite the sting to his mind. It is, at once, dark and black but filled with more colors than he thinks he’s ever seen. He thinks it sounds loud, but the pulsing that it emanates blurs the line between sound and raw energy.

            As soon as Von Dunn lands them, he takes a second to be awed. Memories of harsh words from his oldest brother breaks through his surprise, however, and soon he begins to evaluate the rest of the situation.

            Von Dunn is at his side, panting heavily. The soldier is really only good at jumping, and only good for one medium-distance jump at that. His eyes are glazed over and nearly unseeing into the depths of the hole.

            The area around the hole is decimated. The ground is scorched black, stone walls blasted to debris, a few standing houses burning and ruined. Wolfram estimates the worst of the damage stretching out to a quarter mile radius around the tear.

            The center of it all – probably 20 feet away – is where Wolfram expects to find his trespasser. From his vantage, he sees nothing.

            “I’m going closer.” A brazen hand on his shoulder stops him.

            “Sir – .”

            “You may remain or follow.”

            Wolfram moves slowly towards the center of damage, carefully picking his way around debris. The enormous noise of the environment has him on edge, worried he will at any moment be attacked.

            He spots a dark head lying amidst blacked rubble.

            He turns to Von Dunn, who has followed him, and holds a hand up.

            “Stay.”

            His advance is even more cautious now. He appraises the intruder with every tiny step forward: Male, dark haired, perhaps a little taller than he, and (from what he can tell face down) not very old. Seemingly passed out cold right next to a turbulent inter-dimensional wall breech.

            “Hello?” Wolfram says, which he realizes afterwards is not very commander-like.

            The man twitches.

            “Hey!” Wolfram says a little louder, and takes a step closer. The figure jolts onto his side, and with startling speed, sits up onto his knees.

            _Oh no…_ Wolfram thinks, because there are a few worrisome traits he picks up on right away. For one, the stranger is most definitely _human,_ or at least part human, and a human breaking through their walls would most likely instigate a nasty war. But more importantly, right now, are the boy’s glowing eyes. The unnatural light ringing his irises is something Wolfram has only seen once, but recognizes instantly.

            “Get back!” Wolfram shrieks, and then looks over his shoulder to see if Von Dunn is. “GO!” The other soldier nods and takes off.

            He tries to contact Sulleymann through a mental link, but as suspected, the breech is cancelling out any other waves in the area. He realizes, with a pang of despair, that the effects of his powers will be greatly reduced here.

            Not that he can allow this to matter, of course, because it is his people’s honor that is in question here.

            “Hey!” He yells again, and this time the glowing eyes fix on him. “Why the hell did you come here, _human,_ and why do you think you have the right to wield MAOH?

            The human-MAOH puppet blinks slowly, and finally speaks in a reverberating voice.

            “Did you do this?” He asks, moving one hand to sweep around.

            “Do what?” Wolfram seethes.

            “Destroy these homes. Did you do this?” The voice becomes even lower.

            “What? No! You did that, you scumbag human -.”

            Wolfram is cut off by a wave of energy that crashes into his chest. He is thrown backwards, hard, and the wind is knocked from his lungs. He weezes as he chokes down a breath, and sees the MAOH user standing.

            “Do not lie to me. I will have justice here.”

            Wolfram gets to his feet as soon as they will allow. Clearly, the MOAH user is not in a mood to cooperate. His only option, then, is either to try and contain him or to stall him until the rest of his squad gets here to also try and contain him.

            “Look, you didn’t think blasting a hole in the wall was going to be pleasant for the people near it, did you?”

            “SILENCE!” The human roars, and flings a hand up with a loud snap. Wolfram tries to shield himself from the powerful magic blast, but it easily shatters his wall and drives straight into his mind, immediately overwhelming him. He can feel blood trickling out of the corners of his eyes and nose. Not a good sign at all.

            Through the spinning nausea, he attempts a counter attack. He can’t beat MAOH, human user or not, but maybe he can build a wall around it long enough for back-up to arrive –

            His power is heat. More specifically, he is sensitive to temperature – he can feel it, change it, move it, absorb it – an interesting power, often destructive – but sometimes less than helpful. His best solution now, he thinks, it to try and heat the air close to the intruder to at least halt him.

            The task would not be impossible during normal circumstances, but now it seems a little more difficult. The energy from the breech makes the air changeable, the infrared moving through it so hard to locate and control. Further, his power is nearly decimated from the previous mental attack, so much so that years of mental shields have been blasted away and his grip on reality is growing shaky with every breath.

            The MAOH user has turned away from him now, surveying his surroundings. Wolfram reaches out mentally, trying to find the familiar in the churning air. He feels it faintly, waves that resonate with him, and he pumps them as full of energy as he can. Slowly, as their frequency rises, the air (he can feel it) begins to heat…

            The MAOH notices immediately. With a dignified huff, he raises a hand again – but this time he calls forth a _dragon._ If Wolfram weren’t more panicked, he would be feeling annoyed right now. It was just his luck that the human MAOH user was competent, but to have a grasp of elemental magic? He was so, earnestly _fucked._

Despite the dragon being composed entirely of water (from the humidity? Wolfram guesses) it still stings as it coils around him and lifts him high into the air. From the ground, looking ever haughty, the MAOH says, “You do not deserve to be on my land.”

            The coils tighten, but Wolfram is hardly paying attention. The MAOH has left him an opening, however slim, and he intends to take it.

            In the distraction of his…capture (ughh, Wolfram thinks) he’s able to feel around all the energy surrounding the MAOH. With one mighty, final display of strength, he charges the air with fiery waves of heat. The effect is instantaneous – the water dragon dissolves immediately and Wolfram plummets to the ground.

            Even as he lands hard on his back (something broke oh god he heard it he can feel it) he doesn’t let his assault stop. He can barely hear the MAOH shrieking in frustration from inside his prison of heat. The effort to listen is becoming unbearable as he depletes whatever mental and magic reserves he had left. The overdraw becomes apparent as blood slides down his chin and drips from his ears.

            He can’t keep it up for much longer. He thinks he might have another minute or two left before he’s burned it all up. He would fade away and this trespasser would be free to rampage on his merry, insane way.

            Just as the edges of his consciousness go black, he hears a voice in the distance. “Wolfram!” Wolfram? Oh right, that’s his name. And the voice is very familiar.

            “Wolfram!” He hears again, this time a little closer. Ah, was that Little Big Brother? It sounds like him – wait, it’s been at least thirty years since he’s called Weller that…

            “Wolfram!” He hears, one final time, much closer but muffled through his exhaustion. He feels big hands softly touch his cheeks. It has to be Little Big Brother. If Weller’s here, Weller’s forces are here, and that means the situation gets to be under their control now.

            Wolfram retracts his powers and allows himself to slide into the rather attractive arms of unconsciousness.

  


	3. Chemistry

Shibuya Yuuri remembers very little besides his name when he wakes up.

He can vaguely recall tumult and explosions, the icy thrill of water and the skin of his arms burning. But these memories are much more like sensations and do very little in explaining to him his predicament.

Consciousness returns to him in very slow degrees. When, after a decent struggle, he is able to open his eyes, his confusion is hardly quelled.

The room he’s in in sterile and white, along with the rather comfortable bed he’s in. It looks sleeker and more chrome than the hospitals he’s been in before, but he recognizes its function nonetheless.

A pretty nurse in well-fitted, well-cut scrubs sees him wake and smiles sunnily. “Hold on a moment, I’ll get-.”

She is interrupted when a very tall and very grumpy looking man walks into the room. He slams the door open but his footsteps are silent.

“Thank you, Anna. I’ll take it from here.”

“It’s Adela…” Yuuri hears her snicker as she makes her way out the room. She shuts the door behind.

A pair of very tired eyes assess him.

“Hello, MaOH user.” The man bows deep and long, shocking Yuuri into embarrassment. “Welcome to Shin Makoko.”

“Eh – I don’t, I think-.”

“We apologize that your arrival was…ill received. We generally do not respond lightly to an interdimensional tear in the-.”

The man pauses midsentence, and glances up. He waves his hand and seems to be looking into midair, though Yuuri can make out the faint traces of light emanating in front of him.

“Level 2. Send Johnston. File report with Suki.” He waves his hand again and looks back down.

“Barrier. Please understand our reaction was purely based on ignorance and we mean you no harm”

“I…uh…what?”

“Your highness, do you not remember arriving in Shin Makoko?”

“…Is this some sort of joke?”

The man takes a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“Haha, this isn’t really funny anymore. Um, where am I? Who are you? How did I get here?”

“I am Gwendal von Voltaire, General of the Shin Makoko armed forces and keeper of the barrier. You are in Shin Makoko – Level 1, no response at this moment – sometimes, better known to humans as the demon territory. We do not – Thank you, Johnston, but please report anything under a level 4 to Suki – know how you arrived here. In fact, I was rather hoping _you_ would know how you arrived here.”

“I understood maybe a tenth of what you just said.”

“Conrad’s always better at this sort of thing…” the man grumbles. He squints his already squinty eyes.

“My apologies, your highness,”

“What’s with the ‘your highness’ thing?”

“I am going to send in the Lieutenant General to explain more. He was at the scene of your – No, no response needed Johnston – Suki, how does Johnston keep getting through? – arrival. I believe he may better elucidate the situation. Good day.” Gwendal von Voltaire bows deeply again, and makes his way out the door with silent feet and a loud door slam.

Yuuri’s pleased that it isn’t the Lieutenant General that makes his way through the door. Instead, the sunny nurse comes back.

“Adela!”

“Haha, you heard?”

“Yeah…” Yuuri scratches his head, “…so…what’s going on?”

Adela approaches and takes a seat by his cot. She motions for him to hand her his arm, which he does whilst noticing that they are bandaged tightly.

She talks as she begins to undo bandages.

“It’s good Lord Voltaire is sending in Conra- I mean Lord Weller. He’s much easier to understand, and his face is much less scary.”

“That’s good.” Yuuri agrees absentmindedly.

“You gave us a scare! Wolfram burned you pretty well, you know. Not that you didn’t return the favor, mind.”

“He…what?” Memories begin to crystallize now, though they’re still filtered through a haze of detachment. He remembers overwhelming rage. He remembers this rage becoming real, somehow, malleable, and he remembers tearing into the earth like digging his hands into sand.

“When you arrived, Lord Voltaire had no idea you were the real MaOH user. He sent Wolfram von Bielefield to go suppress you. Both of you are such little spitfires! You got into quite a fight. He burned you, you flung him around a little bit, everyone had a good romp. But look!”

Yuuri looks down and sees his arm. The same as it’s always looked.

“You healed yourself! It’s been a long time since we’ve seen a healer with such fine control.”

“I…uh…that’s great?”

“It sure is!”

“What’s so great?”

A different man stands at the door now, easily as huge as the previous but much less squinty. He’s smiling in a reassuring, to-nice-to-hurt-a-fly sort of way.

“His highness healed himself well! The bandages were a formality, really.”

“The whole ‘your highness’ thing is getting a little weird, guys.”

“Gwendal sent me in here to explain, your highness. It might help.”

“Please!”

“I’m Conrad.” Conrad walks into the room and takes the chair on the other side of Yuuri’s cot. His eyes are half warm and half dead, a lot like his smile.

“We’re not sure how, but you’ve managed to land yourself in the demon kingdom.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says skeptically (and a little shittily), “then where are the demons?”

Conrad laughs, and his haunted smile grows a little more genuine. “We’re the demons, Yuuri. At least, most of us are. At least part demon anyway. As are you.”

“No, no. I don’t think I am.”

“The signs are unmistakeable, your highness –”

“Could you call me Yuuri?”

“Your highness Yuuri, besides, a human would not be able to be a MaOH user. You are a half demon, just as I am.”

“This is really just making me more confused, really. What is MaOH? And what are, like, full demons like?”

Conrad smiles again, broader and with more mirth. “I’ll tell you everything I know, your highness. And after that, I think we should go meet Wolfram.”

…

This – _Wolfram –_ is sitting up in his hospital cot, tablet in hands. He’s holding the device at an awkward distance, squinting his one un-bandaged eye slightly to see the words. Yuuri thinks he looks more like a mummy than a demon right now, all tuckered away in white bandages and white sheets.

He looks up as Conrad and Yuuri enter the room, and even though only one of Wolfram’s blown-wide eyes is visible, the power of his hate is undiminished. Yuuri flinches.

“You’re a- you’re Wolfram!” He says hurriedly, looking at a bruised foot nestled amongst the sheets, “I’m very sorry for -.”

“Shut up.”

Conrad frowns a little, and takes a step forward, “Wolfram.”

Wolfram keeps his gaze fixed on the MAOH user.

“Why are you still here?”

Yuuri fidgets a little with a sleeve, before finally raising his eyes to look Wolfram in the face.

“Well, I’m stuck. And I’m supposed to be here.”

“Thanks for the life story. I meant _in this room,_ cretin.”

The little depression of a frown on Conrad’s forehead turns into a valley. Even Yuuri’s face takes on more steel.

“Look, I’m sorry that I injured you, okay? That’s all I came here for.”

Wolfram turns his nose up with a sad huff of a noise that is probably supposed to be a snort.

“You think I’d accept an apology from you?”

“Well,,,yeah…actually. And don’t act all high and mighty –” Yuuri’s voice begins to grow as he throws his hands up in the air, “ you burned me!”

“Well looks like you got better, champ!” Wolfram snaps condescendingly, “And I don’t accept apologies from humans. Ever.”

“I’m _half-human,_ thanks! And maybe I don’t care if you accept my apology.”

Wolfram rolls his eye and looks at the wall instead. “Half-human, even worse. Son of a filthy fucking bitch-”

“What did you say?” Yuuri’s voice grows low and distant. Wolfram is so intent on staring down the wall he doesn’t even hear Yuuri approach.

“Oh, is your retention really that poor-”                                                 

Wolfram is interrupted by a sharp slap across his left cheek. Yuuri stands fuming above him.

“Don’t you ever speak that way about my mother. Again.”

Wolfram holds his face, too stunned to reply. Even Conrad, the steady ship, looks surprised.

“Your majesty,” he says, “We should go -”

“Take it back.” Wolfram demands in a high pitched voice. The temperature in the room begins a steady rise. “Take it back you FUCKING-”

“You’re bleeding!” Yuuri exclaims, too startled to do much else than point at the bandages around his left eye.

“Well no shit!” Wolfram is shouting now.

“Wolfram. That’s enough.” Conrad’s unflappable voice halts the demon and with him the heat wave.

“His highness has-.”

“It’s Yuuri!”

“His highness Yuuri has come to apologize for injuring you.” Wolfram curls a hand around his injured eye and looks down at his hands. “Whether or not you accept it is up to you. What is not up to you, however, is how you will now speak to your King. Especially since Gwendal and I have decided that you will be his retainer.”

“I… _what_?” Wolfram growls.

“You are to serve as his Highness’ personal knight and retainer from your hospital release forward.”

The room begins to boil again.

“I will absolutely NOT-.”

The door to the room slams open with a terrific snap behind Conrad and Yuuri. As an expression of apprehensive hope begins to dawn on Wolfram’s face, Yuuri loses the will to turn around and assess the latest guest.

“Hello, boys!” A chillingly chipper female voice drawls from behind them.

“A-ah! Gisela! How are you today?” Conrad asks unconvincingly.

“I don’t _remember_ giving you two permission to visit my patient, do I?”

A silence settles, but Yuuri can’t ever let silences last. “Ah. Well. You see. I, uh. We needed to visit and uh, talk -.”

“No Ma’am. You didn’t.” Conrad concludes.

“And I’m just so disappointed when treated wounds re-open, you know? Such a hassle, and it sets back the healing process considerably.”

“Isn’t that right, your highness?”

“Uh…yeah…”

Conrad takes advantage in the lapse of conversation to grab Yuuri by the shoulders and spin him around. He bows low – taking Yuuri with him briefly, before quickly pulling them around Gisela and out the door. As he gets tugged along, Yuuri catches a quick glimpse of grass-green hair and a stony face. If there’s someone around with more power than a king, Yuuri thinks, it is probably that lady.

 


End file.
